


fire of devotion

by Pomfry



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Before C3 Arc, Gen, Implied Relationships, Introspection, Loyalty, References to Depression, That And Thereof Broken Loyalty And Trust, The Implication That Sensei Was An Abusive Bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 10:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14639513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomfry/pseuds/Pomfry
Summary: He is the antithesis to the other servamps. He can walk in human form in the sun, he can summon an illusion of red rain, he has two tails. He can break a servamp, shatter their contract item with a swing of his sword even when their trust isn't weak. He was made to destroy his siblings.(Wherein Tsubaki contemplates his existence, his plan, and his relationships with everyone around him.)





	fire of devotion

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the mangaverse, where after C3 disturbed the showdown at the hotel and Tsubaki had fled. I just wanted to write this, so I did.
> 
> This is basically a makeshift of my headcanons and my take on Tsubaki.
> 
> Also, I may use the beginning for a bnha and servamp crossover, so be forwarned about that. :p
> 
> Enjoy!

His plan is falling apart at his feet - at least, he thinks it is. This may be the moment he's been waiting for, to get his most powerful subclass within C3 and destroy it from the inside out. C3 does have a hand in Sensei's death, after all. They're the ones who ordered it. Tsubaki wants to burn it to the ground.  
  
He lands on a rooftop, his sandals making a sound as he does. He takes a deep breath, gripping his sword tight. Damn, damn, _damn._ His base is gone, demolished by his oldest brother and his eve. His subclass are scattered. He has nowhere to go.  
  
He sits, hanging one leg off the edge and hugging another to his chest as he puts his forehead against his knee. He needs to _think._ Thinking has always been his strong suit. Sensei left him with only two things, two bits of knowledge.  
  
He is the antithesis to the other servamps. He can walk in human form in the sun, he can summon an illusion of red rain, he has two tails. He can break a servamp, shatter their contract item with a swing of his sword even when their trust isn't weak. He was made to destroy his siblings.  
  
One piece of knowledge.  
  
The other is that his name is Tsubaki.  
  
He clings to his name like it's a lifeline, calls himself Tsubaki under his breath, smiles when Belkia calls him Tsu-chan. His name is the only thing remaining of his past before his eyes turned red and he grew fangs. Sensei told him, promised him that his name was Tsubaki, and he hadn't had any reason to object. He couldn't recall anything before he woke up on Sensei's operating table.  
  
He had taken longer to make, to manufacture. Sensei told him that it took nearly a month to get enough Jin and give him all of the abilities he has.  
  
Sometimes Tsubaki wonders quietly if he's an abomination, if he was created only to cause destruction. He wouldn't doubt it. Sensei had been kind in the first years, teaching him and taking his hands as he dissected one of Tsubaki's subclass.  
  
Tsubaki had always hated that.  
  
Then - when it had reached ten years and Tsubaki had put his foot down, shouting that he cannot do this to his subclass any longer, Sensei had grown cruel. He had grown careless, angry, and when Sleepy Ash had come, Tsubaki had gotten into the habit of hiding his subclass from his teacher.

He carries out his plan in memory of Sensei, but by no means does he do it for the man. He does it because if he doesn't - well. Lawless wouldn't be the only servamp broken.

The sun peaks from behind the clouds, shedding light on the city, and Tsubaki watches it without fear for his eyes. The sun is bright - a steady stream of heat. Tsubaki knows that he will be here when it consumes the Earth, knows that he will watch it absorb the only home he has ever known. Perhaps he will be among the stars, perhaps not. Tsubaki doesn’t know - he wasn’t gifted with foresight. That had been beyond Sensei’s capabilities. He has no doubt, though, that if Sensei was alive now then it would not be

Sensei was a genius, Tsubaki thinks bitterly, rubbing a hand against his chest. When he had awoken, opened his eyes for the first time, he had stitches in his chest, in his legs. They’ve long since healed over without an ache or scars, but -

But the first thing Tsubaki remembers was stitches in his skin, an insane smile over him, and a understanding that he is not supposed to be here. Those things - stick.

He lets his right leg fall, his sandals nearly slipping off his feet as he swings them. The rain has stopped, he notices, and pulls his haori closer around his shoulders. Tsubaki gets cold easily, hates the heat. He is a contradiction - vampires are supposed to hate the sunlight but he adores it. He is supposed to be cold but he is warm. He likes the rain but hates blood. His mental state is crumbling by the hour and he’s well aware of it.

Sakuya had begged him, pleaded with him to get help, to get a subclass with a psychologist degree. Tsubaki had merely laughed, patting him on the head. He wasn’t planning to stay around others once his plan was completed, he had said, smiling. Sakuya had frowned and stuck close to him for a month after that, always a step behind until Tsubaki had told him that he would keep in touch the best he could.

This was all before Mahiru, of course, when Sakuya had still liked him, still trusted him. This was before his plan had come into effect in truth, before all of his subtle machinations had come to fruition. Before Sakuya had met Shirota Mahiru and had fallen in love with him. This was when Sakuya was staying with him because he wanted to.

Tsubaki frowns, curls his fingers in. Everything starts with Mahiru, doesn’t it? Sakuya met him and suddenly he was not content with Tsubaki, restless when he once would have been happy. Sleepy Ash found a home with him, was suddenly doing things and making decisions where he once would not have. Lawless and his eve were getting along better. Old Child and his young eve were making new connections. Lily and his eve were reconnecting and making friends.

The original servamps had even met up for the first time in centuries.

Tsubaki tilts his head back, staring at the rain heavy clouds. “What is it about him?” he asks, curious. Shirota Mahiru is interesting. Not in the way his subclass are, no, but -

It’s more of a philosophical interest. Tsubaki is - was - everything to his subclass. He was their savior and their leader and they would do anything for him. He would kill the world to keep them safe, and they knew this. Sakuya knew this. Tsubaki was the one who told him it wasn’t his fault when his sister jumped, the one who went back to his home and tore out his parent’s throats. And _yet -_

And yet, within six months Sakuya was struggling with his loyalty. He didn’t know where to put his faith, where he once would have trusted Tsubaki wholeheartedly. He didn’t -

Tsubaki sighs. He lost Sakuya’s trust and he doesn’t even know what he did wrong. He didn’t require him to lie, didn’t demand it. He gave him music and friendship and a home. And maybe more, if he had stayed. But Shirota Mahiru had claimed his trust, his loyalty. He had stolen it without even knowing that he did.

Tsubaki closes his eyes, the wind rustling his hair. Sensei had warned him that loyalty is fleeting, is fickle and something not easily given and easily taken away, and Tsubaki hadn’t believed him. He never had any reason to. His subclass were loyal to a fault, always willing to sacrifice everything for him, and he would do the same. They were his family. When Lawless slaughtered them, he had to temper his rage into a blade, into a weapon, otherwise the plan would fail.

He had promised their Jin, their memories and dead smiles that he would avenge them, that their deaths would not be in vain. When he heard Lilac was alive, he had nearly sobbed with relief. One of them was alive and it was _glorious._

“Shi-ro-ta Ma-hi-ru,” he says, opening his eyes. Lilac had given away some of his loyalty to the boy within those three days, Tsubaki knows.

What is so special about him? He’s average looking and a bit of a ditz. He yells and does what he wants and -

Tsubaki just doesn’t get it. He has given them everything he could and they turned their backs on him. He did everything he could ever have done. And they just -

Water slips down his cheeks. Tsubaki sniffs and wipes at his eyes. He’s always been a crier, always been a crybaby. He embodies melancholy.

He has always been the kind of person to put the well being of the few above the many - it’s why he doesn’t really _care_ about the deaths. As long as they aren’t those who are his, he just-

Well. He honestly doesn’t care. How can he? His emotions are strong, strong enough to kill, and he loves intensely enough to rival a star. He can’t spread himself thin or he will crack, will break. He isn’t like other people. He can’t make himself care about people who don’t have any emotional value to him. He just - can’t.

Another thing that separates him from Shirota. Maybe that’s why Sakuya was being pulled into two different directions. Shirota cares for everyone and everything, with little difference. Tsubaki can’t do that.

Everything comes back to that boy, it seems; even his thoughts circle back to him. It’s like he has this gravitational pull, Tsubaki muses as the crowds mill below him. Everyone is drawn to him - the good, the bad. Nothing is safe.

Not even his subclass.

And kami does that hurt. It hurts and it aches and it makes Tsubaki want to beat someone into the ground. Tsubaki put _everything_ into keeping them safe, and -

And they _left._ They left, and it hurts. Tsubaki doesn’t know what he did wrong. Sakuya left because he suddenly couldn’t stand Tsubaki’s company, his ideals and motivations. Tsubaki had shared it with him. He had told him, in a bid of desperation and loneliness, just why he was doing what he did. Just why he laughs - it’s because he would cry otherwise - and why he is the way is. He told him, deep into the night, what happened at C3, and Sakuya had stared and stared.

 _I had been experimented on,_ he had said, careless and offhand, and Sakuya had flinched. _I was there for a few decades until I escaped. It - wasn’t pleasant, certainly. They wanted to know just what makes up a servamp. I don’t think they ever figured it out. Truth be told, I don’t know either. Sensei never told me._

Sakuya had grabbed his wrist when he’d gone to leave, had snatched him and refused to let go, his eyes hidden by his hair. _It won’t happen,_ he had promised, had vowed. _I won’t let it happen again, I_ **_promise._ **

And Tsubaki had smiled and tugged Sakuya into a hug, burying his nose into Sakuya’s hair. He is Who Is Coming, the servamp of melancholy, the one designed to bring the rest to their knees, and a oath had broken him, had made him sob like he hadn’t done in at least two centuries.

What had happened? What had made that resolve waver? When did it happen, when did it change from a moment in the darkness, a shared embrace, a promise and heart broken cries to loyalty shared, to him leaving Tsubaki behind for a mortal boy with a smile like sunshine? When did it -

“Ah, but I guess it doesn’t matter now,” he says, and tilts his head up to feel the sun on his face, the way his siblings never can do. “It’s too late. I never stood a chance.”

Tsubaki is like the moon, no matter how he can stand under the rays of the sun. He takes the light provided by his siblings - beautiful creations, the masterpiece of the universe, seven individuals with abilities like no other - and reflects it; onto himself, his subclass - everyone he cares for.

He is a servamp not meant to be here. He’s an anomaly, a glitch in the system. A virus meant to destroy and destroy all while crying in a rain of blood. He has allies, fellow pariahs, people who should be dead but aren’t. People who wouldn’t be missed until Tsubaki fed them his blood. Sakuya was one of them until he had left.

Tsubaki would welcome him back with open arms if he so desired, but he doubts he would. Sakuya is free now. He has Shirota as a best friend after all. What use does he have of a broken man with only a mission forged in the blood of the teacher keeping him together. What use does he have of his fellow subclass, those who had been cast aside like trash?

Tsubaki laughs, long and bitter. He lost one of his close friends to someone who knew him for six months. Ironic. He thought that letting Sakuya go would help him, let him open up around others not himself. It worked, certainly, just - not in the way he thought it would. Sakuya had closed off from him, brushing him off when he tried to talk to him. He had started to only talk about Shirota and -

“I never did stand a chance,” he murmurs, and stands. Once this plan is done, he’ll be thousands of miles beneath the water, submerged in ocean and drowning every few seconds before returning to life. Once this is done, he can finally rest.

Tsubaki vanishes his sword and leaps to another roof. The plan won’t wait for anyone. He has already taken twenty minutes to himself - he won’t allow himself more. His mind is a dark place, one filled with death and depression and heartbreak.

He smiles into the wind, already formulating a way to get the plan to his subclass and putting Sakuya out of his mind. There is work to be done.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always loved and brighten up my day and are saved in my Gmail.
> 
> Also! Here's my [Tumblr.](http://nikescaret.tumblr.com) Come visit and chat with me if you want!


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